


Bosom Buddies

by irrationalno



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Baby Animals, Bickering, Gen, boobsweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalno/pseuds/irrationalno
Summary: Fujiko, Goemon and Jigen chill out and watch TV. That's it, that's the story.





	

 

 

It hadn’t stopped raining in two hours. Jigen would look at his Rolex every ten minutes, but Lupin wasn’t supposed to show up until around midnight. Even so, he’d paced around the room, then put his shirt on, then stripped back down to his undershirt, then cleaned his Magnum, then taken it apart again, then started leafing through some men’s fitness magazines he’d picked up earlier in the downstairs lobby.

Then he’d excused himself for a quarter of an hour.

Not in so many words, of course.

On returning, Jigen folded himself into an armchair in a really uncomfortable-looking lounge. His twin bed was right there, and Goemon didn’t understand why he didn’t just lie down, until he realised that maybe Jigen didn’t want to fall asleep right then.

Jigen moved a bit in the chair. There was a popping sound. Doubtless it was the bad shoulder. He’d been overdoing it with the anti-tank rifles. It was impressive, thought Goemon, but at the same time incredibly foolish.

Goemon tried to watch TV. It was hard to follow along when Jigen kept channel surfing. He could take some initiative and grab the remote, but he didn’t really want to watch anything in particular.

It was boring. He was bored. He wished the rain would stop soon. He decided to clean his sword.

 “Lupin? You there, Lupin? I got your text, so I called a taxi and thought I’d—oh.” The door was flung open.

“He will be here by midnight,” said Goemon to the cloud of perfume and petrichor that wafted in. As usual, he tried not to _look_ at Fujiko, succeeded mostly in feeling very rude, and overcompensated by frowning at her.

Fujiko was wearing a bomber jacket over a short dress. She’d just lowered a large, dripping umbrella.

“Is there a bucket or something?” said Fujiko, smiling at Goemon.

There was nothing to do but find a bucket for Fujiko, so he did.

“Thanks,” she said, planting her umbrella in the bucket and toeing it to a corner. Jigen had sat up again and was reading the same section of the same page of the same magazine for five minutes. Goemon bit the inside of his cheek.

Fujiko shot a glance at Jigen’s strained posture, then at the empty twin bed. With a sigh, she shrugged off her jacket and sat down on Goemon’s bed. He was further up and she at the foot. As a result, a woman was now weeping above Fujiko’s head, high-definition mascara running down her high-definition face.

The visual switched suddenly to crocodiles, their jaws snapping through bubbles of high-definition mud. They’d landed on a nature documentary.

“That’s amazing,” said Fujiko in a low voice. “He really takes pettiness to the level of art sometimes.”

“No comment,” said Goemon.

“I heard that,” said Jigen, but Goemon didn’t check to see if he’d progressed in his reading. Fujiko sat half-lotus, damp feet leaving slight stains on the bedcover. Her hair was messed up, probably from the rain. There was a huge run in her right stocking.

Goemon cleaned his sword and watched the crocodiles. The narrator was explaining the life cycle of the “majestic, primordial” creatures.

“Oh look, baby crocodiles,” said Fujiko, flopping back onto the bed. Goemon’s grip slipped and he almost cut himself.

He only had himself to blame this time.

The baby crocodiles were squeaking. Fujiko was mesmerised, keeping her eyes glued to the screen as she stole all of Goemon’s pillows and propped herself up. Jigen had actually set aside the magazine, hat tipped back a few millimetres.

Everyone was disappointed when the programme went to commercials.

“Remember that time we escaped from Florida?” said Fujiko, rummaging through her purse. “You two nearly got eaten by that mobster’s pet crocodiles.”

“Let us not remember Florida,” said Goemon.

“Fuckin Florida,” said Jigen. “But those were alligators.”

“Huh? Yeah, fine, alligators. I don’t think I like them much, either way.”

“Can’t imagine why,” said Jigen.

“You don’t have to, it’s cause they’re big and ugly and they always look like they just ate a bag of lemons.”

“Maybe you could teach them how to _contour_ ,” said Jigen.

“Maybe she’s born with it,” Goemon said, mostly to himself, putting away his precious cleaning kit. He’d heard the phrase several times on the car radio and quite liked the little tune. Then he saw that Jigen and Fujiko were both staring at him. “…What?”

“No comment,” said Fujiko. She rolled onto her stomach, pouting at Goemon. “I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find what?” said Goemon, clasping his knees with his hands. The cloud of perfume this close up had an undeniable undercurrent of sweat. It wasn’t objectionable in the least.

“Never mind,” said Fujiko, and flopped onto her back once again. Then she stuck her hands under her own body and did… something. She did something else to her shoulders. And she _yanked_. “Phew.” Now she was holding her bra. It was a large, austerely made object, but in a blinding green colour. The straps were transparent. Goemon wondered if it glowed in the dark.

“No, it doesn’t glow in the dark,” said Fujiko. “I have a couple that do, though.”

“Jesus,” said Jigen. There was no way he was reading the magazine.

If there was one person Goemon didn’t want picking up on his random thoughts, it was Fujiko. “That must be useful in certain situations,” said Goemon, disturbed. And he had no intention of speculating on what those situations could be.

Fujiko’s breasts looked soft, flattened out like that under the dress. He had never thought about cupping them in his hands just to feel their weight. Definitely not.

“Actually, yeah. You know how life jackets come in certain colours for high visibility?”

“That’s true…”

“Anyway, this baby’s special. Custom made by a good friend of mine. But it’s not perfect.”

Goemon was wrapping his brain around the idea of Fujiko having friends when Jigen humphed from his end of the room. “You make it sound like it’s advanced tech.”

The lives of saltwater crocodiles flashed before Goemon’s eyes. News of a freak storm in southern Europe. Extreme makeovers. Prayer packages. Chocolate factories. Softcore porn. _Terminator 2_.

“Cause guess what, it _is_. You think I’m wearing some frilly gauzy thing when I’m on the move? That shit’s cute to look at but support is key. There’s all kinds of stuff going on. Physics stuff.”

“What’s that saying? Gravity wins in the end…”

Fujiko raised a middle finger. Her red nail polish was chipped.

“True beauty is within the soul, not on the surface,” said Goemon, as the T-1000 flailed in a vat of molten metal.

“Are you taking her side?” said Jigen, indignant.

“I,” said Goemon. “That was a quote.”

“It’s Confucius,” said Fujiko, smiling at her phone.

“It’s confusing us,” said Jigen.

“That can happen when you only got two brain cells to rub together, yeah.”

“Fujiko, you don’t mean that,” said Goemon. It would be no good if things really escalated into a fight.

“I’ll be just as mean as I want, thanks. Learned from the best.” Fujiko threw a pillow Goemon’s way.

Goemon discreetly hugged the pillow.

“Please don’t ever say you learned anything from me,” said Jigen.

“Cheer up, will you,” said Fujiko. “Lupin went downtown and he just got something he wants to show you.”

Jigen lifted his face slowly from his magazine. “This isn’t funny.”

Fujiko winked.

“I swear to God, Fujiko,” started Jigen.

“Jigen-chaaan!” came a voice from the corridor, right on cue. “I’m home!”

Jigen pulled the door open and stalked out, shirtless and barefoot.

Goemon looked at Fujiko. “I thought you were staying at the Park Hyatt.”

“I thought I’d drop by before catching my flight, say hello to the boys.”

“When is your flight?”

“Eight in the morning,” said Fujiko. “Ugh, I hope it doesn’t rain in the morning too! Think I’ll just crash here, you mind?”

She did seem tired. Too tired to change into sleep clothes. Too tired to brush her teeth.

Maybe she’d been running from something or someone.

Goemon turned the TV off and climbed out of the bed. “Sleep. I will keep watch.”

“What for? Job’s over. You sleep too.”

“Then I will make sure you wake up on time.”

“OK, Confucius,” said Fujiko, flicking the main light switch off. “Hey, before I fall asleep…”

“Yes?” said Goemon, taking up position on the other bed.

“You’ve got nice tits, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for all the alligateration.


End file.
